


my lady

by thecactusqueen



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecactusqueen/pseuds/thecactusqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has always called her that, no matter how many times she has insisted it is not necessary. After all, why should old friends rely on formalities?<br/></p><p>post-5x13</p>
            </blockquote>





	my lady

It is seven years after the death of Arthur.

“My lady.”

He has always called her that, no matter how many times she has insisted it is not necessary. After all, why should old friends rely on formalities? 

He pays no heed, and swears she will be his lady until they send him floating across the river. She does not like that; it reminds her too much of the great loves she has lost. 

They mourned together. Of course they did, it would be folly to expect otherwise. After Lancelot’s sacrifice, Leon had held her until she could cry no more, and when she could not bear to speak to her brother or Arthur, it had been him to whom she had run. Later, she had not been able to grieve for the second loss of Lancelot, but once Gaius had explained the circumstances of his reappearance to her, it had been Leon she had sought out. 

Elyan had been the one thread that kept her clinging to the life she had after her father’s murder. When she lost him, Leon did not tell her it was a tragedy. He did not extol upon Elyan posthumous titles and praises. He never told Gwen it was going to be okay. He was just there. And that, she reflects, made all the difference in the world. That is why she, cursed by Morgana though she was, never attacked Leon. 

And Arthur. The King of Camelot was dead and she could do nothing about it. A sword in her hand would not have ended the despair and sorrow that sang in her heart. She was no King, she knew that. She was a blacksmith’s daughter, with a supposed traitor for a father and a dead Knight as a brother. The people of Camelot did not think Tom had betrayed the King, but the Pendragon dynasty and the laws of Camelot as enacted by Uther did, and while Arthur may have given her his royal seal, she had her doubts. 

Leon had no doubts. If he had not proclaimed her Queen, she is not sure she would have reigned. It had to be him. After that, it took years. Years before she could look at him and see anything but a friend. A loyal friend, a servant of Camelot, the leading Knight of the Round Table, but a friend nonetheless. The empty seat left by Gwaine, as well as the vacant throne beside her, distracted her for so long she did not feel prepared to face him. 

When at last she did, she discovered that over the years, she had slowly fallen into the embrace they called love. It was not the unexpected passion of Lancelot, nor was it the adrenaline-fuelled devotion of Arthur.

It was calm, it was content, and it was Leon.


End file.
